The Little Violinist
by thequeenieofcourse
Summary: He was an artist. She was a musician. Both needed an escape... and both found it in each other. (Modern!AU)
1. Chapter 1

Ariel, wait for me!"

I glanced back at Fletcher, who struggled to unstick his feet from the sand pulling at our toes. I grinned widely and darted my hands up to sign, Fletcher, hurry up!

"You know I can't wade that fast." He grumbled, pulling harder until he came unstuck and his momentum flung him toward"s the sandbar I stood on, sending little splashes of water up onto my thighs. Even standing on higher ground than I, he was a head and a half shorter than me.

I pointed towards a jumble of litter under the water, really no more than a dark impression in the river. There. Isn't it fantastic?

His face went pale. In order to reach the trash, we'd have to dive under the mucky water. "Yeah… sure… it-it's great. Now let's get outta here."

You're not getting cold feet now, are you? I teased, smirking over my wriggling fingers.

"Who, me?" Fletcher scoffed. "No way. It's just, it, err… it looks dark down there. Yeah. And I think I may be coming down with something. Yeah, I've got this cough." He coughed unconvincingly into one fist.

I sighed, acting dejected but resigned. All right, fine. I'm going down. You can just stay here and watch for piranhas. I made to step off of the sandbar into deeper water.

Fletcher let out a sighing breath. "Okay. Yeah, you go. I'll stay and- wait, what? Piranhas?!" In a moment, he was beside me, breathing heavily as he treaded water to stay afloat. He gave me one last nervous look. "Safety in numbers, right? They always go for the bigger prey… right?!"

You're almost thirteen, Fletcher. Don't be such a wimp.

He snorted. "Me? Yeah, ri-" Whatever he was about to say was cut off as I dove under and paddled down to where the trash stuck in some water plants. The bright sunlight outside was barely enough to shine down into the darkness in shimmering waves, illuminating a collection of man-made odds and ends. I felt a tug on my foot just as I reached for an old rusty fork and spun around, my heart in my throat. Fletcher motioned frantically to me, then pointed to the left, where shadows lurked beyond our gaze. Fish! He signed three times, then swam out and away.

I rolled my eyes at his foolishness and followed him.

I popped up beside Flounder, whose face was ashen beneath his blonde hair. "Can we go, Ariel?! I swear I saw something just then."

No, you didn't. There aren't any piranhas here. I rubbed the fork I picked up between my fingers, scrubbing rust off the utensil in flakes. A mermaid, carved in lightweight silver, twirled around the handle with her tail flicking. You think Scuttle will buy this one?

"Maybe. Probably. I don't know! Let's get out of here already!"

I sighed and stuck the fork into my netted bag, which I bought for this exact reason. It clicked against my lucky pink conch. Alright, I signed. But you're picking up lunch if I don't have a chance to dry before I put my shorts back on.

…

I yanked my thick red hair back into a ponytail as I slid into the bar at Scuttle's, the local cafe tourists oohed and aahed over and my friend Skylar Scuttle happened to own. His daughter, Ursa, gave my purple bikini top a dirty look as she dashed between tables, taking orders.

Scuttle made his way out of the kitchen when he noticed me, his massive girth knocking into every possible door and counter as he walked to where Fletcher and I lounged.

"Woah! Could it be? The elusive fish-girl, come into port?" He smiled good-naturedly and stuck a hand in his white apron. "Ariel, how you doin' kid?"

I was used to his antics and dove right into the subject at hand (pun be forgiven), pulling the old fork out of my bag. Scuttle, look what we found. Scuttle didn't know much sign language, so Fletcher translated for me, then added, "Yeah, we went into the middle of the river. It was really creepy."

"More diving stuff, eh? Hey, lemme see." He plucked the fork from my grasp and held it up to his ear, flicking the metal with one fingernail. A peal like a bell rang out. "Look at this… wow- this is special- this is very, very unusual."

Really?! I tried to hide the wide grin that split my face, but it escaped me anyway.

Scuttle sighed, handing the fork back to me. "No. Rather ordinary, actually. Pretty, for sure, and the tone's-"

My heart stopped. Tone? Music! I turned to Fletcher with wide eyes. The concert! Oh my gosh, Father's going to kill me!

His mouth fell open. "The concert was to today?"

Scuttle was still examining the fork. "Perhaps you could make a little comb out of it or somethin'."

Fletcher and I lept from our seats; I stuffed the fork back into my bag. I signed, Gotta go, thank you, Scuttle! and ran out, Fletcher close behind. He tossed my words over his shoulder.

Scuttle chuckled. "Anytime, sweetie, anytime."

Ursa watched Fletcher and I go, grumbling under her breath. She squeezed her pencil so hard it snapped in half and hit her customer on the brow.

…

My father paced in front of me, his suit in sharp contrast to my dripping hair and ripped jean shorts. My violin dangled haphazardly by the neck in his hand. Right behind him was Sebastian, my tutor and my father's oldest friend. He looked down at me from beneath thin spectacles, his cheeks ruddy with indignation.

"I just don't know what we're going to do with you, young lady." Father said, his voice gravelly. Fletcher grasped at my wrist in fright.

I shook him off and signed, Daddy, I'm sorry, close to tears. I just forgot, I-

He looked away from me and I stopped signing, frustrated as much as upset. I had no way to talk to him if he refused to read my hands. "As a result of your careless behaviour-"

"Careless and reckless behaviour!" Sebastian cut in, waving his arms in disgust. He looked like a stick bug in his waistcoat, and I amused myself for a moment by imaging the older man perched on the side of a branch, his dark reddish brown hair spiked into two antenna.

Father attempted to regain his momentum, but his train of thought had been interrupted and he only managed "-the entire celebration was, er-" before Sebastian jumped in again, groaning, "Well, it was ruined! That's all. Completely destroyed! This concert was to be the pinnacle of my distinguished career. Now thanks to you I am the laughing stock of the entire music community!"

"But it wasn't her fault!" Fletcher crept out from behind me long enough to say, then he seemed to realize he'd spoken and shrunk back into himself, blushing. "Ah- well- first, I thought there was a piranha- yeah- yeah! And we tried to- but we couldn't- and- ahhhhhhh- and- and we- whoooooaaaaa- oh, but then we were safe. But then she had this fork and this cafe came, and it was this is this, and that it that, and-" He stopped and hid behind me again.

If possible, Daddy's face got even more purple and mottled. "Cafe?" He bellowed. "Oh, I suppose you went into the square again, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

My hands were hesitant to respond. I understood their sentiment. Nothing happened…

"Oh, Ariel, how many times must we go through this? You couldn't been recognized, by some heathen," He shuddered. "You could've been hurt!"

Daddy, they're not heathens.

"They're dangerous. Do you think I want to see my youngest daughter snared by a serial kidnapper?"

I'm eighteen years old, I was screaming it in my head, and my fingers moved quickly and angrily. I'm not a child anymore!

"Don't you talk back to me, young lady. as long as you live in my house, you'll obey my rules!"

But if you would just listen! I pleaded.

"Not another word." Father growled through clenched teeth. Sebastian sniffed and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "And I am never, never to hear of you going into town again. Is that clear?"

I curled my hands into fists and marched out of the room, fighting back furious tears. I hardly noticed when Fletcher followed me out of the house and down into the garden. We worked our way into the back of the maze, something we did almost daily (and I certainly did), and I unlocked the doors to the abandoned barn set beside an ancient oak.

I'd patched up the ceiling and opened up a lot of the boarded windows, as well as decorated the old building with shelves, statues, paintings, and other odds-and-ends that Father had long ago forbidden in the house. I pulled the fork from my bag and placed it on the shelf directly beside the door, in a ray of sunshine that filtered down from one window on the far side of the barn. Fletcher folded himself into one of the beanbags.

"Ariel?" He asked, his small face twisted with concern. "Are you okay?"

I sighed and looked away from him as I settled across from him, my fingers already dancing with a thousand words I couldn't say. If only I could make him understand. I don't see things the way he does. I bit my tongue to stop the tears pooling in my eyes from falling. You've been my only friend since the accident, Fletcher. I know you're five years younger than me, and sometimes that feels like an awful lot, but you understand me so much more than any of my sisters do, and certainly more than Sebastian, or Father. He doesn't get it. He doesn't get how painful it is to see everyone else grow up and make friends and fall in love while I'm stuck as the fifteen-year-old with no voice and no mother.

"At least you're getting away," He muttered in reply, his voice subdued. "Off to Juliard in a month." I sighed and picked at the rug with my toes, staring off at one of the windchimes I'd hung around the low roof.

I guess. I just- A crack outside the door startled Fletcher and me, sending us scrambling. I reached the doorway in time to see a sheepish Sebastian trying to sneak away. Sebastian?

As he was oft to do, Sebastian transformed his embarrassment into an attack on someone else- me. He pointed indignantly at the dreamcatcher hanging above the door. "Ariel- are you mad?! How could you- what is all this?" My fingers flew with explanation, but he refused to watch them. "If your father knew about this place, he'd-"

"You're not gonna tell him, are you?" Fletcher squeaked, his expression a mixture of frightened and angry. I jumped right in, begging. Oh, please, Sebastian! He'd never understand.

"Ariel," My tutor's voice grew more kind and patient. "I realize you're under a lot of pressure. Come with me, I'll take you to the kitchen and get you something warm to drink."

A loud noise over the wall behind the barn caught my attention, and I was suddenly unable (or unwilling) to listen to Sebastian drone any longer. I turned my back on him and motioned quickly to Fletcher. What do you suppose?

"Ariel?" I ignored Sebastian and slipped around the barn, pushing aside brambles until I found the rickety ladder Fletcher and I had put there two years before. Without a backward glance, I shimmied over the wall and dropped to the pavement beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: This is where the story starts to deviate a LOT from the movie, just so it makes sense for the timeline. I combined Max and Grimsby into one character so things would be less confusing (and so Max could be human, too)._

The back of our Spanish villa faced a quiet street laced with hanging branches and clumps of flowering trees. The loud noise I'd heard came from an old truck barrelling down the street, straight towards a young man with dark hair. His arms were full of canvas, and two paintbrushes were stuck behind his ears. He struggled to see around the paintings in his arms, and must have had earbuds in, for he didn't react to the frantic honking of the truck driver.

The moment I'd processed the situation, I scrambled over the side of the fence (slamming my knee into the top of one board) and rushed across the road. Years of swimming in a variety of weather had given me enough muscles to make it to the boy in seconds, just before the truck slammed into him. I barrelled into his side, slinging the both of us to the sidewalk. His paintings went flying onto the pavement, but his paintbrushes didn't make it and were smashed under the wheels of the swerving vehicle.

I roll off the stranger and lie spread-eagled on the sidewalk, breathing hard. He groaned and rubbed the back of his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his black earbuds sliding down his white button-up.

He turned to me then, his gray-blue eyes widened and a dimple creasing his cheek beside a weak smile. "Thanks," He muttered, and a blush colored his neck for a moment. I mirrored his posture, propping myself up with locked arms. "Yenno, for saving me. That would have been pretty bad." I nodded sharply, unable to answer him (that is, if he'd even understood sign language) now that I saw how unearthly attractive he was. His eyes glittered with a mischievous glint, and his sculpted face was every artist's dream. My mouth dropped open of its own accord.

His look of gratitude turned to impishness and he pushed my jaw closed with his forefinger, laughing softly. "Careful there, miss, you'll catch flies." My face tingled with the force of my deep blush.

Hurried footsteps interrupted our one-sided conversation, luckily saving me from any more embarrassment. The boy and I looked up to a muscular man with obviously dyed silvery white hair streaked with strands of darker gray and black. His chest strained against the fabric of his dark band t-shirt. "Eric!" He growled, stopping a foot away and hunching over to clutch at his knees. "Oh, Eric, you _scoundrel_." I was slightly surprised by the slight British accent he had. "You really delight in these sadistic strains on my blood pressure, don't you?"

Eric laughed, cocking his head to the side. "Hello, Max. What a friend you are, hm? While you were busy flirting with the waitress, I nearly got flattened. Little miss here had to save me." He inclined his head towards me.

Max held out an arm and helped Eric to his feet, who in turn pulled me up onto mine. "Thank you for saving the helpless maid, dear stranger."

I smiled shyly, unsure of how to respond to him. Eric rolled his eyes and nudged me with his elbow. "Thespians, eh?" He paused and looked me up and down."You look familiar…" He mused, tapping his chin with one long finger. "Do you attend SCAD?"

Before I had a chance to respond, Max glanced down at his watch and yelped. "We're late! Quick, Eric, gather your things; Clary's going to kill us if we're late _again_." He started snatching Eric's paintings off the sidewalk, jabbering to himself. "I swear, one of these days… can't keep being the one… hardly even feed himself…"

Eric grinned apologetically at me, his cheeks creasing with deep dimples, and ran a hand through his thick black hair. "I really do appreciate you helping me back there, yenno. Is there anything I can do to repay you? I haven't got much money, but maybe…" He reached for his pocket and I shook my head violently, speaking with my hands.

 _I don't need your money._ I shrugged and held my hands flat in front of me before continuing. _I'm fine, really._

Eric gave me a long, curious stare. "Do you- I mean to say, are you-" I nodded and tapped my throat, something easier to comprehend than the sign for _mute_ (usually, pushing my fist towards my lips failed to get the point across). "Ah. I see." He looked taken aback for less than a second. "Perhaps it's odd of me to ask, but would you like to come with us?"

Max paused and raised his eyebrows at his friend.

I was similarly stunned, and more than a little worried by the statement.

Eric laughed. "We're going to a cafe just down the road. It's a bit of a walk, I suppose, but there are going to be a lot of students there, most of whom are exhibiting a piece or two of their work. Clary's cool about letting us sell there without asking for a piece of the profit. Max is normally my only companion, but…"

He trailed off and appeared slightly uncomfortable by himself. I froze up for only a moment, long enough to glance back at the house, then nodded slowly. _I'd like that_. He couldn't understand me, but I hoped he'd get the idea.

"Great! We, uh… hold on…" He picked up the last two canvases and hoisted them into his arms, positioning them more carefully than before so they didn't block his vision. Max stood up with three others wrapped in his massive hands. "Sorry, where was I?" We began walking down the sidewalk, Max marching just slightly ahead. Eric was an exuberant talker; with every word, he'd shift his grip on the paintings like he wanted to wave his hands around. "Oh, right. Clary's Cafe. Well, technically it's her husband's, but he named it after her and now that he's got cancer she basically runs it herself. Am I talking too much? I'm sorry. I blabber when I'm nervous. Not that you make me nervous or anything, but- nevermind. What do you like to do?" I anticipated the awkward pause after his question- there always was one when someone who didn't know sign language asked me a direct question- but I mimed playing a violin before he grew any more uncomfortable and retracted his invitation. "Oh, you're a musician? That's cool. I dabble in the clarinet, but I'm not any good. I can play Hot Cross Buns though."

I laughed, the motion as silent as it had been for almost ten years. Eric must have noticed and thought it was amusing, because he chuckled too, his laugh loud and booming. It was a genuine belly laugh, and just odd enough that I had to hold back tears of mirth.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac, Eric, and I walked for almost ten minutes, Eric chattering the entire way. For once, I didn't mind being mute; he was so animated, and excitable, that even if I'd still had the use of my vocal chords I wouldn't have talked much. Max was similarly silent, speaking only to mutter a curse or two when he lost his grip on Eric's paintings. I'd offered to take one, but he'd just given me an affronted look and tightened his hold on the canvases.

"He's British," Eric had muttered out of the corner of his mouth, in way of explanation. I hadn't quite understood what that had to do with letting me help out, but I wasn't about to insist and risk offending him.

After a while, I zoned out and listened more to the inflection of Eric's words than what he was actually saying. One of the few good things about being mute: people don't expect you to respond. Still, it wasn't the best decision: I was too busy watching the street to notice when Eric finally stopped and would have plowed into his back if I hadn't seen Max freeze out of the corner of my eye.

Eric nodded toward a smallish white building, topped with a large sign that blinked Clary's over and over. "It doesn't look like much, but I think you'll like it," He said, leading the way to the door. I reached around him and pulled it open, propping it open with one tennis shoe as he and Max stepped in. I followed a heartbeat behind the larger man.

Sure enough, the cafe was better on the inside than its exterior gave away. Every inch of blank wall had been covered in drawings, some drawn directly on the wood and some nailed on. Abstract, realistic, historical, pencil, chalk, paint… every possible kind of drawing, painting, and doodle was represented in the small building. A particularly risque drawing of a nude women had been made family-friendly with artfully placed napkins. The bar was dotted with sculptures, from a leering monkey to an apple so real I might have bitten into it if there hadn't been a placard beside it.

I turned to Eric, beaming, but he missed my smile as both he and Max were busy setting his work on empty spots over one of the booths. I weaved around the few people scattered around the cafe to where they stood, gazing up at Eric's pieces. Eric gave Max a high five, grinning lopsidedly at me. "What do you think?"

All five seemed to belong to the same series; they were done in shades of blue and purple, and featured scenes from around the city. A mother cradling her child beneath an arching sculpture, a blind man throwing crumbs to birds, a little girl pressing a flower to a homeless man's hand, an old woman kneeling beside a marble gravestone, and a lone guitarist playing for an empty street. They were magnificent; if I hadn't been able to see the paint on the canvas, I might have thought they were photos.

My throat tightened, and tears pricked my eyes. They're- I remembered he didn't know sign language and froze up, uncertain of how to tell him what I thought of his work. Luckily, Max was more conscientious than I'd expected from the massive man: he handed me a Sharpie and a napkin. They're beautiful. I wrote. I think they're the best pieces in here.

Eric laughed, a blush coloring his neck. "Thanks… I mean, I'm not sure about the best, per se, but-" I placed a finger over my lips, shushing him. The BEST.

At that moment, the door of the cafe opened with the tinkle of a bell. I automatically turned my head, and squeaked in horror: Sebastian and Fletcher, one in a suit and the other still in board shorts, were pushing their way into the shop. The former screwed his face into a nasty scowl and called, "Ariel?"

I squeaked again and dove behind Eric, peeking around his waist at the two. He glanced down at me and raised an eyebrow at me, trying to hide a widening smirk. "Why are you hiding… Ariel?" his eyes went huge. "Wait- Ariel Triton? The violinist?" I nodded slowly. "I think- I think I've painted you."


	4. Chapter 4

"We're just going to pretend this whole thing never happened. Your father will never know. You won't tell him, I won't tell him, and I will stay in one piece. So far, so good. I don't think he knows. But it will not be easy keeping something like this a secret for long." Sebastian paced across my bedroom floor, his polished black shoes clicking across the hardwood.

I wasn't paying attention to the worried conductor; I plucked petals off one of the daisies from the garden. I frowned, then plucked the last petal and beamed. Oh, Fletcher, he loves me! I knew it! I collapsed backwards, my head dropping off the side of my bed, and smiled at the flower stems dotting my floor. Fletcher, sitting on the window seat, laughed. Sebastian turned and gave him a dirty look.

"Ariel, stop talking crazy."

I sat up and flicked my hair out of my eyes, pouting. I've got to see him again… tonight! I'm sure somebody knows where he lives…

"Ariel- please. Will you get your head out of the clouds and back into reality, where it belongs?"

I know, I'll go back to the cafe! Eric said he went to the University… and there are always students around- or, at least, that's what he told me… Maybe if I-

Sebastian sighed like the world's problems had settled down on his poor, skinny shoulders. "You belong here, among talented youth like yourself. Ariel, average people… they're a mess! Life in your father's house is better than anything they've got out there. The grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence, Ariel. You dream about going out there, but that's a big mistake. Just look at the world around you- what more are you looking for? It's better over here, separated from the worst evils of the world- take it from me. You've got a wonderful talent, Ariel, and it's taking you places. Now, please, let go of this ridiculous dream you've got."

I rolled my eyes where he could plainly see. His cheeks grew as ruddy as his hair, then he stomped out of my bedroom, muttering, "Oh… somebody's got to nail your feet to the floor."

I stuck my tongue out at the closed door and fell back against my pillows.

...

"Ariel!" Andrina slammed her fist on the bathroom door I shared with her and Atina, my oldest sister. "Get OUT! You've been in there ALL MORNING!"

I pushed the door open, and a muffled growl came from behind it as I squished my hot-headed blonde sister between the door and the wall. I blushed and giggled silently. Oops. Sorry, Andrina. She huffed angrily and stomped into the restroom, fuming.

Father appeared at the junction between Atina's bedroom and the bathroom. I didn't notice him until I'd plowed right into him; he caught my elbow before I fell and gave me an odd look. I grinned and signed, morning, Daddy, before rushing off. Behind me, I heard the squeak of Atina's wheelchair and her soft laugh. "Oh, she's got it bad,"

…

Fletcher, why can't you just tell me what this is all about? I wasn't sure if he was near enough to read my hands, but I asked anyway, just in case. He'd shoved me onto a bench by the maze and told me to close my eyes, then darted into the barn.

"You'll see," Fletcher's unchanged voice floated from the general direction of the barn and I turned my head that way, my eyes still shut tightly. "It's a surprise- don't look!"

I'm not, I promise. His hands, relatively long for such a short kid, wrapped around my forearm and Fletcher yanked me across the lawn. He placed my hands on the barn doors, so I'd know where I was, and disappeared to rustle about a bit more; a match was struck, then blown out, and a soft scent twirled around me, mixing with the sweet honeysuckle that grew over the side of the fence. Is that- I sniffed. Vanilla?

"Sure is. I remember you said you liked it." I smiled, touched. "Okay... " He pulled me further into the barn, right next to some little flame that flickered through my eyelids. I assumed the vanilla scent clouding the air came from the same place as the heat and gentle light. "Now! Open your eyes!"

I gasped. Taped to the wall, lit by the flame of a small candle, was a picture of Eric, presumably printed offline. He grinned mischievously at the photographer, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes slightly unfocused, caught unaware by the picture. Black paint flecked his skin, and dripped from the paintbrush in his left hand onto his jeans. Oh, Fletcher… I shuffled closer to the photo in a daze and brushed my fingertips across Eric's still cheek. I turned back to my best friend with tears brimming in my eyes. Fletcher, you're the best. It looks just like I remember him- it even captures his gorgeous eyes… I plucked it from the wall and pressed a kiss to Eric's still face, then held it close to my chest, spinning in a giddy circle.

And froze, horrified. The picture fluttered to the ground.

"I consider myself a reasonable man," My father said, his usually warm voice low and dangerous. I clutched the hem of my shirt in my fist in an attempt to hold back the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. "I set certain rules, and I expect those rules to be obeyed."

I bit my tongue so hard blood spilled over into my throat.

He turned to the door and I noticed Sebastian lurking there, uncertain. My heart sunk into my toes. "Is it true, Ariel," And his stormy blue eyes were back on me. "That you rescued some boy?"

I frantically unclenched my fists, freeing up my hands to do my speaking for me. Daddy, I had to.

"I've forbidden you from leaving this property without supervision. Ariel, you know that! Everyone knows that!"

He would have died! I begged him with my eyes to believe me, to trust me, putting the emotion into my expression that I couldn't give to my fingers.

He snorted. "One less useless idiot to worry about!"

My sorrow turned to indignation and my lip curled unconsciously. You don't even know him.

"Know him?" Father snorted again, his disdain evident in his dismissive tone. "I don't have to know him. They're all the same. Spineless, talentless, pathetic-" He bit back whatever word he was planning on using and managed to reel himself in slightly, then I made everything worse by blinking back furious tears and signing: Daddy, I love him!

He burst.

"Have you lost your senses completely?! You two belong to two different worlds, Ariel! You're of a higher class; you have POTENTIAL! He's a waste of air, and not worth the dirt under my foot."

I don't care. I crossed my arms.

Father's face tightened into an impenetrable mask. "So help me, Ariel, I am going to get through to you. And if this is the only way… so be it." I grasped what he planned a half-moment before he took action, and tried to leap in front of him, but he simply shoved my small frame out of the way and seized the first object he came to: my precious conch. He threw it to the hardwood with all of his considerable strength and it shattered, shards of the pink shell rocketing to all corners of the barn. Fletcher cowered behind one of the beanbags. Next was a snow globe filled with sparkling glitter, then he started ripping my drawings off the walls and shredding them to bits. He yanked a shelf of odds and ends right off the wall and tossed it to the ground. I screamed silently, tears streaming down my face, my hands quivering.

He stooped and came back with the picture of Eric clasped in his hands. "This is what happens when my rules are disobeyed, Ariel." He tore the photo in two and let the pieces drift, broken, onto the dirtied floor. I disintegrated; at least, that was how it felt. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, gasping for breath through the sobs that wracked my body. I mouthed, "No, no, no, please…" over and over, soundlessly reaching for words that I'd never hear come from my lips again.

Father's footsteps faded away. I hardly noticed the sharp glass and shards of shell pricking at my skin, or the puddle of glittering water staining my leggings. Salty tears dripped onto my thighs.

"Ariel, I-" Sebastian muttered from just over my shoulder. I turned my head away and he left as well, hesitating at the edge of the barn before vanishing into the yard.

I dropped my face into my cut hands and cried.


End file.
